Pulling a cloth from the pocket of her apron, she pretended to dust the windowsill.
Sebastian turned on his heel and strode away to await the arrival of Rebecca and Miss Leonard. As he neared the entry hall, he caught a passing glimpse of his reflection in a mirror and scarcely recognized himself. He looked haggard, disheveled and bleary-eyed—almost as bad as during the worst days of his marriage. Rebecca hadn’t even accepted his proposal and already she was putting him through the same misery as Lydia had.
Every hour that passed, he grew more certain that asking her to marry him had been as terrible a mistake as his brother proposing to Hermione Leonard. Why had she kept him hanging for days on end, waiting for the ax to fall, when there could be no question she would take advantage of his fatal lapse in judgment? His fortune and the security it provided would be too great a temptation. Marriage to a viscount would also raise her rank, perhaps higher than her relatives. She would be free to flaunt her new title in the faces of those who’d once cast her out.
With all that to entice her, why had she fled from him in the garden, then? And why was she taking so long to give him her answer? Could it be that she did not care for him and shrank from spending the rest of her life with him?
He welcomed the sight of his carriage speeding up the lane for it distracted him from the vicious spiral of doubt that had plagued him ever since he blurted out that blasted proposal.
A few moments later, he bowed over the ladies’ hands as they alighted from the carriage. “Miss Leonard, Miss Beaton, thank you for accepting my invitation on such short notice. Shall we go join my brother for tea?”
Though habit and inclination urged him to offer Rebecca his arm, Sebastian resisted. Thrusting his hands behind his back, he strode off, leaving the ladies to follow.
“Lord Benedict?” Rebecca’s voice rang with a note of tender concern. “Have you been ill? You do not look well.”
“I am no worse than usual, I assure you.” He raised his voice to alert his accomplice of their approach. She was one woman who had better not betray him.
As they reached the door to the sitting room, Sebastian stood back to let the ladies enter first. It was more than simple courtesy. This way, they would have an unobstructed view of the proceedings.
A sharp gasp from one and a shrill cry from the other assured him the housemaid’s timing had been flawless. Perhaps she would find success on the London stage as she so desperately desired.
Sebastian entered the room to find Claude blathering on about how the servant had suddenly thrown herself at him and kissed him.
“It’s not how it looks, Hermione. I can explain. Well, perhaps not explain, but...” From his wild gestures and frantic tone, it was clear Claude knew there could be no hope of his fiancée believing such an improbable story.
“Get out of here!” Sebastian growled at the housemaid. “I will deal with you later.”
The girl sidled away, still smirking.
In the brittle silence that descended upon the room, Sebastian waited for Miss Leonard’s reaction. She had said nothing since her first squeak of dismay. Was that a good sign or a bad one?
Protective as ever, Rebecca moved closer and put her arm around her young friend. But she did not speak. Like Claude and Sebastian, she seemed to hold her breath waiting to hear what Hermione would say.
For a long moment Hermione locked gazes with Claude, who appeared to offer a silent plea for understanding. Then she turned those enormous, childlike eyes in Sebastian’s direction. In them he read a question and a wrenching depth of innocent pain he could not bear to witness.
Her whispery voice shattered the expectant hush. “I believe you, Claude.”
The young man’s bated breath exploded in a gasp and a sob. The question that rose to his lips was the same one that echoed through his brother’s mind. “You do?”
She did? Where was the outrage he’d expected, the possessive hysteria?
Hermione gave a shaky nod. “I know you are a good, honorable man. I am certain you would never betray my trust.”
He should have known, a persuasive little voice in the back of Sebastian’s mind hissed. The girl must be so greedy for the advantages she would gain by wedding his brother that she was willing to turn a blind eye to flagrant evidence of infidelity.
“Thank heaven!” Claude stumbled toward her, his hand pressed to his chest. “And thank you for being such a sweet, trusting angel. I was so afraid this would make you change your mind about marrying me.”
When he reached for her, Hermione retreated into the shelter of Rebecca’s arms. “I’m afraid... it has.”
Claude flinched. “But you just said you trust me. I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps you should ask your brother.”
“My brother?” He glanced toward Sebastian. “What has he got to do with...? Oh, no. Sebastian. Tell me you were not behind this!”
“I had to. You forced my hand. After the banns were read tomorrow, there would have been no going back. I know you may be upset now, but you will soon forget. You always do.”
“Forget?” With a feral cry, Claude lunged toward Sebastian, his fist raised.
Sebastian stood unflinching before his brother’s attack, not out of courage or resolution but because he was concentrating so hard on Rebecca. The sharp intake of her breath was followed by a faint, wounded whimper. In her gaze he glimpsed a desperate yearning to deny that he could be capable of such a thing.
At the last instant, Claude stayed his blow. Instead he hurled words that injured Sebastian far worse. “Forget her? Never! And I will never forgive you for what you’ve done.”
He turned to Hermione. “Please do not punish me for my brother’s malicious mischief!”
“I do not believe he acted out of malice,” she replied. “He only wants to protect you.”
“I am not an infant!” Claude cried. “I do not need his protection, especially not from you! You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“You think that now.” Hermione’s voice broke. “But if we were to wed against your brother’s wishes, it would create a breach between you that might never heal. One day, you might come to blame me for it and wish you had not married me after all. I could not bear that.”
As Claude begged her to reconsider, Sebastian felt his mind was about to burst trying to reconcile two entirely contrary ideas. Hermione Leonard was not clinging desperately to her engagement after all. Nor was she breaking it in a fit of jealous rage, but out of concern for his brother’s future happiness and hers... and perhaps even his. Could he have misjudged her so horribly?
The harder Claude pleaded, the more gently implacable Hermione grew, like a slender sapling bending before a gale, but never breaking. When her eyes began to glitter with unshed tears, she turned and buried her face in her Rebecca’s shoulder.